


Eighth Day of Christmas

by machine_gun_manda_panda



Series: 12 Days of Christmas [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Winter Solstice, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 02:42:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2835134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/machine_gun_manda_panda/pseuds/machine_gun_manda_panda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter</p><p>Title: Solstice</p>
    </blockquote>





	Eighth Day of Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
> 
> Title: Solstice

Every year, the Ministry had an employee Christmas party, dress robes required, and every year, Hermione hated it. It wasn’t because of the time of year for she loved Christmas. It wasn’t because of the weird food, and it definitely wasn’t because of the open bar. It wasn’t even because of the drunk old politicians trying to flirt their way onto her good side. No, it was none of those things at all. It was watching Ron bring a new date every year and having to talk to them like she cared about them. The first time she saw him with someone else, she was jealous, but after 5 years of seeing a new woman on his arm, jealousy blossomed into annoyance and a tiny bit of pity. She loved Ronald; in fact, they were still great friends, but she knew that he hadn’t been able to find someone like her, but she would never fit his needs, for which she was glad.

She sat at the bar and sipped on a martini. She had already fulfilled her requirements for the night: talk to some coworkers, be seen with the Minister, take a picture with Harry and Ron since the Golden Trio thing hadn’t died down, and now she was relaxing until she could slip out, unnoticed, after only an hour of being there.

Hermione looked around, finishing the drink in her hand, and decided that she wouldn’t have to wait as long to leave as she planned. No one seemed to notice that she wasn’t actually participating so she turned around and gave the bartender a nice tip. She was slipping her coat on when she heard a lazy drawl that made her stomach clench in happy anticipation.

“Ah, ah, ah, Granger. Where do you think you’re going? You haven’t even danced yet.”

“I don’t dance, Malfoy.” She turned to look at the inebriated blonde. She grinned at him with playful eyes. “And how did you know I haven’t danced yet?”

“Because I haven’t asked you yet.” He smirked at Hermione’s amused face and ordered himself another Firewhiskey.

“What makes you think I’d dance with you?”

“The same thing that makes me think I’m the only person you’d dance with,” he poked her nose, “my dashing good looks of course, love.”

Hermione laughed out loud at this. She had to wipe tears out of her eyes and hoped she hadn’t smeared the little make up she put on. It was amazing how much he made her laugh. Over the years, Draco and she had put aside their childhood rivalries and prejudices for work cooperation. They often had to meet one another since she was one of five Curse Breakers at the Ministry and he was an Auror with Harry and Ron. Not that he needed to work, of course, but he wanted to and enjoyed his job immensely. They didn’t become friends until the first Christmas party she was single. When he approached her at the bar, similar to how he approached her tonight, she expected him to make fun of her disposition. Instead of commenting on her moping, he made a joke about Susan Bone’s dress. She almost spit her drink on the bar and ever since then, they’ve been good friends.

After four years of getting lunches, going to the cinema, and showing up drunk at each other’s homes, complaining about romances and work and exes, it was hard to keep her feelings for him in check, especially after what happened last Christmas. He reminded her often that he was technically in some type of relationship. He was still betrothed to Astoria Greengrass, but neither one of the parties wanted to get married. Astoria broke it to Draco that she was in love with Theodore Nott last Christmas. That was the night that Draco got drunk and ended up stumbling out of Hermione’s floo at two in the morning. He told her that he was trying to love Astoria, for marriage sake, but now there was no point. He was a little sad and little angry, but mostly he was just relieved. He kissed Hermione that night and she was happy that he decided to stay over, in the guest room of course. However, when she woke up, excited about the coming Boxing Day, she found that he didn’t remember anything after saying her address into the floo. “What’s going on in that brain of yours, Hermione?”

Hermione looked at Draco whose eyes were roaming over her features. She had gotten better at hiding her tells but he had gotten better at reading her like the books she loved. “I was just thinking about what I was going to read when I get home in a couple minutes.” She looked up and nodded at Draco. “I’ll see you later, okay, Draco? I’m really not feeling well anyway.”

She was surprised that Draco looked disappointed but he nodded and smiled at her. “Catch you later, Granger. Oh, and leave your floo open, would you?”

“It’s always open to you, Draco.”

...

Hermione had just slipped into some shorts when she heard the chime of her floo. She had only been gone for ten minutes, enough time to pour a glass of wine, feed Crookshanks, and change into her pajamas. Suddenly, there was a crash and the sound of glass shattering.

“Shit, Granger! Learn how to turn on a damn light!”

She opened her door and watched as Draco cleaned up the broken vase from the floor. “I wasn’t expecting company, Draco.”

He looked at her incredulously. “I just told you to leave your floo open.”

“I thought it was just a general suggestion, not a hint that you were going to follow me home like a lost puppy.” She smiled at him and sipped from her wine glass. “So?”

“So,” he said, looking everywhere but where Hermione was standing.

“What do you—“

“Dance with me,” he interrupted, finally looking at her.

“What?”

“Come on, Hermione.” Draco smiled a sly smile and stalked up to her. “It’s the winter solstice, you know. The longest night of the year. Want to spend it with me? We could have a slumber party.”

“Oh gosh. Really?” She laughed and took a step back to look at his face. “That’s the best you can come up with? Did you really think that line would work?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “is it working?” He took his finger and tipped her chin, forcing her eyes to his.

She felt her smile fall away and stepped away from him. “Draco, you’re dunk. I’ll go make up the guest room.” She turned to go make the bed, but was stopped when Draco grabbed her bicep.

“No, I’m not, Hermione. I took a sobering potion before I got here. That’s why it took me ten minutes.”

Hermione turned, confused and was met with Draco’s waiting lips. They were urgent but soft and oh so heavenly. This was nothing like last year’s. It was conscious and lovely and it filled Hermione with joy and something else she didn’t want to admit about her best friend.

Draco pulled away after a few seconds and grinned. “I remember last year. I remember every second and you have no idea how hard it was to lie to you. I didn’t know if wanted to remember. If you—“

“You remember?”

“Yes.”

Hermione smiled and brought her lips up to capture his once again. “So,” she said, pulling away again, “it’s the longest night of the year. Want to spend it with me?”


End file.
